


Gods and Monsters

by Sheepie



Series: London on Fire [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Canonical Character Death, Collars, Dark!Harry, Dom!Harry, Dom/sub, Explosions, Gazelle is a perfect human being and Harry's right hand man, Graphic Violence, Hacker!Eggsy, M/M, Mass Murder, Murder Queen Gazelle, Political Undertones, Public Execution, Smut, Sub!Eggsy, Terrorism, background Percilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepie/pseuds/Sheepie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>No government power can be abused long. Mankind will not bear it.</i> - <b>Samuel Johnson</b></p><p>Harry Hart is the charismatic leader of the insurgent group PROMETHEUS. Together with Eggsy Unwin, a talented hacker, he sets in motion a rebellion that will shatter London.</p><p>That is, if Kingsman doesn't stop them first.</p><p>{In which Harry is a dark and violent insurrectionist, Eggsy's is his protege, and Gazelle is her beautiful self.}</p><p> </p><p>  <b>PLEASE READ AND HEED ALL TAGS. THIS IS A DARK FIC! DO NOT READ IF THIS UPSETS YOU!</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The London Stock Exchange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnaofAza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/gifts).



> Self-bated.
> 
> This is the prize fic for [AnnaofAza](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza/), who won my 300 follower giveaway. She asked for a dark!Harry and protege!Eggsy fic.
> 
>  
> 
> **Please heed the tags. This is a dark fic. There are violent acts committed by Harry in this fic. I do not in any way, shape, or form condone/support violent acts and acts of terrorism. If violence, gore, aggressive acts, or anything similar disturbs or upsets you, I _urge_ you not to read.**
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT: I in no way support the tragic events on 11/13. My deepest sympathies go out to all who have suffered that day. This is a prompt fill that was given to me prior to those events.**

            At eight thirty in the morning on a Wednesday, Paternoster Square was busy. The overcast sky hinted at a chance of rain, but in the distant horizon there was a glimmer of light, as if the sun were trying to part the gray clouds. In the center of the square, where a cluster of people lingered, was a seventy-five foot Corinthian column. Paternoster Square Column was a sight to see, carved from beautiful Portland stone with a gold-leafed copper urn at the top. The column was more than a symbol of power, it was a torch—the beacon which lit the doorway of the Stock Exchange.

            It was all figurative, of course. While Paternoster Square Column did light up in the evening, it wasn’t nearly so bright as to expose the truth behind the glass doors of the London Stock Exchange. No, though the walls of the Stock Exchange were made of glass, no one could see the lies that were laced through the steel skeleton of the building.

            The world was oblivious to the fact that right there in the heart of Paternoster Square rested a beast—a vicious, blood-thirsty, animal that fed off the weak and the poor.

            And it was time that the beast was exposed.

            Harry had watched in silence long enough. He could no longer be a bystander in the murder and mutilation of the innocent.

            He crossed Paternoster Square, dressed in a black bespoke suit and a long black coat. He held in his hand a nondescript briefcase, one that could easily be lost amongst all the other leather briefcases. He could easily be lost in the crowd—another mindless servant to the corporate machine. Harry entered the stock exchange building, setting his briefcase down on the conveyer belt for the x-ray machine.

            Harry removed his watch and money clip, dropping them in a basket, before he passed the metal detector. The security guard on duty nodded at him, muddy eyes glazed over in boredom. Harry collected his things, picked up his briefcase, and then crossed the grand marble floor towards the circular desk in the front of the foyer.

            Extravagance dripped from every wall. London Stock Exchange was the epitome of wealth and privilege. Harry passed a man yelling on his cell phone and a woman who typed furiously into her iPhone. No one noticed him. Even the receptionist took a moment to look up and acknowledge Harry’s presence when he stopped in front of her.

            “May I help you?” She asked.

            “I’m here to see Mr. Feinstein,” Harry stated.

            “Name?”

            “Mr. Fawkes.”

            The receptionist made a quick phone call, then handed Harry a visitor’s badge. “Mr. Feinstein is expecting you.”

            Harry accepted the badge with a gracious smile. He clipped it to the lapel of his coat and then walked around the desk to an elevator. The elevator quickly filled up, barely leaving room to breathe with the number of people that piled in. A double-paraplegic woman with silver running legs stepped onto the elevator. Her long black hair was cut bluntly to frame her sun-kissed face. She briefly caught Harry’s eyes, her head tipping up in a slight nod, before she looked ahead.

            The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to the chaotic exchange floor. The air immediately shifted, growing hot and salty from the number of bodies moving around the floor and shouting. The fetid stench of bullshit assaulted Harry’s senses.

            “We’re in,” Harry announced.

            The men in the elevator stormed out, swinging massive M16s out from under their long coats. They fired into the air. Screams ripped through the stock exchange and everyone dropped to the floor, hands covering their heads.

            “Good morning ladies and gentleman,” Harry greeted, strolling towards the center of the floor. “If I could have your attention for a few minutes.”

            A man bolted up from the floor and made a dash for the elevators. One of Harry’s men shot him in the back of the bed, his blood and brain matter splattering across the polished steel doors. Several more people screamed, and Harry waited until they fell silent before he stated cryptically, “Consider this a reminder that you are not hostages, you are examples.”

            Harry smiled, looking around the giant room. The digital screens flickered with information, announcing trades and newly collected data. It was the pinnacle of wealth and power, where digital money was exchanged, an arena where men became kings and kings became gods. No one realized that buried beneath all the glass and steel, the marble and concrete, hidden under the wires and power chords, were the countless bodies of men and women who couldn’t survive in the battle grounds.

            “Gazelle, if you would be so kind as to gather everyone in the center,” Harry ordered. “And Eggsy, love, how are we doing on security?”

            _“Elevators are stopped and I’ve disconnected the security alert alarms. Guards are blissfully oblivious, bruv,”_ Eggsy drawled in Harry’s ear.

            Harry tsked and said half-teasingly, “What have I said about calling me that?”

            _“Sorry ‘Arry.”_ Eggsy didn’t sound apologetic at all, the cheeky thing.

            Harry walked over to a chair at one of the many exchange terminals and took a seat. He crossed his long legs and watched calmly as Gazelle gracefully moved around the floor with his men, herding all of the executives and exchangers into the middle of the room. It amazed Harry how soundless Gazelle could be when she walked—as if she never truly touched the floor, but simply floated across it. Harry still wasn’t completely certain that Gazelle was truly human and not really some ethereal higher being.

Occasionally the whimpers and sobs were punctuated with pleas and belligerent screams. Each time this happened, it was promptly followed by a gunshot.

            It took a little over fifteen minutes to gather everyone and secure them in the center of the room on the floor. Harry had drifted to an upper level, where a walkway ran along the perimeter of the floor, looking down on the exchange. He leaned against the banister, chuckling gently to a joke Eggsy told him while he waited.

            “Everything is ready,” Gazelle announced, approaching Harry.

            Harry pushed off the banister. His men circled the group with their guns aimed at the hostages. A few men tried to overpower them, but they were immediately shot down, their bodies left on the floor to bleed out.

            She held up an iPhone and signaled that she was ready for Harry. “Are we ready Eggsy?” Harry straightened his tie and smoothed a lock of hair from his face.

            _“Feed is patched through. Soon as it hits play you’ll be streaming across every network,”_ Eggsy answered.

            Harry nodded to Gazelle, and once the light clicked on, he began. He knew there was a risk in revealing his face—Eggsy had pleaded with him to wear a mask; “Like in _V for Vendetta,_ ” Eggsy had said with his best puppy eyes—but Harry didn’t believe in hiding, in masking who he was and what he represented. Let the people see the face of their liberator, let them see that he is just a man as they are, that they too could rise up against the monster lurking the shadows.

            “People of London—of the world—I come to you this auspicious morning, on the day Hesketh Pharmaceuticals enters London Stock Exchange, to give you a gift. For too long the sick and the helpless, the poor and the under privileged, have fallen victim to their government. While the people of London suffer, our government and companies like Hesketh Pharmaceuticals grow richer. Their avaricious claws tear at our bodies, taking and taking, never caring who they kill in their attempts to gain _more._

“Hesketh Pharmaceuticals has a profit margin exceeding 110%. Do you know where the mass of their fortune was earned? From the inflated prices of life saving medicine; President Charlie Hesketh just purchased the rights to a vital drug for AIDs and cancer patients, and increased the cost by over 107%. One pill,”—Harry held up the brightly colored, gel pill—“costs over a one-thousand and one-hundred dollars. Does the government step in? No. Ask yourself why. Why does our government allow Hesketh Pharmaceuticals to viciously and publicly murder thousands of people?”

            Harry slipped the drug back into his pocket. “Because Prime Minister Parish holds one of the leading shares in Hesketh Pharmaceuticals. Your government—the people who are meant to protect and serve you—watch you die so that they can line their already fat pockets.” With each word, his voice grew stronger, his silken baritone lifting an octave. “How much longer will we have to suffer at the hands of Prime Minister Parish? How long until the streets flow with the dead, when we lose our voice? Already our screams have begun to be silenced. But no more. No more will we stand idly by and let them feast on the bodies of our mothers and fathers, our brothers and sisters, our friends and neighbors. No longer will we allow men like Prime Minister Parish and Charlie Hesketh to reign over us like gods. They are men, men like you and I, and they will _bleed_.”

            He stepped to the right, not out of the frame of the camera, but allowing the view of his examples to come into focus. “These men and women, these _dogs_ , are false gods, earning their wealth from the poor. It’s time to show the world that we will not be bystanders to their atrocities, it’s time we return the power back to the people.” Harry returned to his former spot, each word vibrating with severe passion, a cold promise of vengeance. “They are not gods, they are monsters, and it’s time to cut the head from this beast.”

             The light went out and Gazelle lowered the phone. “Done.”

            _“Fucking ‘ell ‘Arry,”_ Eggsy whispered shakily. _“That was brilliant, bruv.”_

Harry smiled privately, basking in the praise turned around, bracing his hands on the railing, and announced to the cowering men and women. “You have all been gathered here today to be given one last chance to atone for your crimes: you will become the kindling for the fire that reignites humanity.”

            The men guarding them opened fire. The thunderous roar of semi-automatics deafened the swell of screams. Harry turned to Gazelle, who stood at attention behind him, waiting patiently for her next order.

            “Shall we be off?” Harry asked, already heading for the stairs.

            _“Passage is cleared for you Gazelle. There’s a back exit in the rear to the right.”_ Eggsy instructed.

            Gazelle picked up the briefcase and carried it to one of the terminals. She clicked it open, popped the bottom out, and armed the bomb stashed inside. It was one of many carefully placed explosives scattered throughout the entire stock exchange.

            By the time Harry reached the door, Gazelle now in front, his men had completed their work. They took up the rear, two moving to the front of Harry so that he was protected on both ends. Harry didn’t look back at the blood bath.

            A black SUV was waiting for them when Harry reached the outside. Sirens could be heard in the distance. It wouldn’t take long for the police to reach Paternoster Square, but it would be too late. Once he was inside the vehicle and a safe distance away, Harry told Eggsy, “Burn it to the ground.”

            From the tablet Gazelle handed him, Harry watched as the London Stock Exchange exploded.


	2. Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry returns to base and rewards Eggsy for all his hard work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-betaed.
> 
> **Please heed all tag warnings.**

            Eggsy reclined in his chair, monitoring the news channels streaming the event on the dozen screens that filtered across his vision. Harry would be back soon. His latest status update was ten minutes out. Eggsy’s stomach rolled anxiously, excitement zinging through his body like electric butterflies. The fire was gorgeous, a great inferno that rolled high into the skin, churning out thick black plumes of smoke.

            He reached up and idly stroked the edge of the leather collar looping his neck, coming to rest his index finger on the golden tag dangling from the end. The pressure around his neck was grounding, fixing him to a central point as the rest of the world fell into bedlam.

            No one would ever understand what they were doing, the lengths they were going in order to save innocent lives. Growing up, Eggsy had seen firsthand what happened to the poor and under-privileged. No one gave two shites about a boy and his mum from the estates. They slapped on a label, tucked them away in a derelict apartment complex, and offered a measly allowance of assisted aid, all the while pretending they were doing them a great favor. Eggsy didn’t see anyone coming to their aid when his dad died, or when his mum got knocked up by his abusive step-father. No one came to Eggsy’s aid when his mum died giving birth and he was forced to live under Dean’s thumb. Everyone turned a blind eye to the abuse, pretending it didn’t exist.

            The only person who had ever cared had been Harry. He had been the one to see the potential in Eggsy, to realize there was something more than some boy from the slums. He was the one that saved him from perdition.

            Harry: the man who would save them all. He’d brought the fire back to mankind, and now he’d dismantle the pantheon and show London and the world that there were no gods, there was only man. _We’re all equal, even those not born wif a silver spoon up our arses._

A small alert in the corner of his eye announced Harry’s arrival. Eggsy clicked a button and the great black pod he sat in opened. The shiny top lifted and descended back with a hiss. The massive machine was a great computer Eggsy had designed and spent the last four years building. It was more than just a computer though, it was a living server that Eggsy could become a part of—it was his baby, his Daisy.

            Eggsy removed the helmet—connected with dozens of wires to Daisy—and climbed out. An excited pug waited for him, prancing eagerly in front of Daisy. Eggsy fished out a treat from his pocket and tossed it to J.B. “There y’ go boy.”

            J.B. got hit in the face with the treat when he went to catch it and snorted. The treat fell to the floor and he immediately gobbled it up. He quickly licked up the crumbs and then trotted after Eggsy. Before Eggsy left the room, he called back, “G’night, Dais. Good work today!”

            He sprinted down the hall, reaching Harry as he entered the underground facility. Eggsy launched into Harry’s arms without a care. Gazelle shook her head with a private smile and nodded to the men, who didn’t even blink at the hacker’s antics. Harry caught Eggsy around the waist and effortlessly slipped his hands down to cradle his rear and hoist his boy up. Eggsy wrapped his legs around Harry’s narrow waist and praised, “Fucking ‘ell ‘Arry, y’ were so fucking brilliant. It’s everywhere. All the major stations. All across the globe.”

            “Well, it wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you, my dear boy. You did wonderfully today. You made me very proud.”

            Eggsy preened visibly at the words, nuzzling Harry’s neck. “Yeah? So I did good?”

            “Very good.”

            Eggsy rolled his eyes up, looking at Harry through a veil of golden lashes. “Good enough for a reward?”

            Harry hummed thoughtfully, tightening his hold on Eggsy. Eggsy tried to wait patiently, but the longer Harry studied him, the more he started to squirm. Harry finally took mercy on him and said, “Yes, I do believe you’ve earned your reward.” He set Eggsy back on his feet. “I have a bit more work first. Wait for me in our room.”

            “I compiled the reports that have come in, and it’ll update each time a new one is aired. Y’ can access it from yer tablet,” Eggsy said, switching over to business.

            Harry trailed a finger down the curve of Eggsy’s jaw. “Such a clever boy.” He pressed a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead. “You’ve done well. Let me review these, and then I’ll give you your reward.”

            Eggsy hesitated, and Harry raised a brow in question. “Do y’ think they’re going to listen to us?” The thought had been worrying in the back of his mind since Harry had left that morning. What if all their work was brushed aside and painted as a mindless terrorist act?

            “They’ll listen,” Harry assured, setting his large hand on Eggsy’s shoulder. His warmth seeped through the layers of clothes Eggsy wore, penetrating deep into his core and soothing the anxiety that had begun to harden inside him. “For too long we have been led to believe that if we’re lesser, if we aren’t borne from silver-tinted privilege, than we hold no concession to the world.” Harry tightened his grip before dropping his hand. “We’re showing those that have been fooled that their voice does matter. They’ll listen because they want someone to show them that they matter, that their _lives_ matter.”

            Eggsy stood on the tips of his toes, brushing his nose against Harry’s. “Wot was it y’ said? That there was a reason aristocrats grew weak chins?”

            Harry chuckled, sliding his hand down the curve of Eggsy’s spine with a scrape of his fingernails. “Yes, and we’re going to show them, my dear boy, that those chins are made of glass, and our fists made of steel. Now go. I expect you stripped and in position when I arrive.”

            Eggsy headed for their bedroom, a spring in his step. Every cell in his body vibrated with residual adrenaline. It all felt like a dream, and Eggsy was almost afraid he’d wake up to find himself still lying on the grime-caked floor of Dean’s apartment, leaking out cum and blood from practically every orifice.

            It wasn’t a dream, though. It was real. Harry was real. PROMETHEUS was real. Their home was real. And the fire that burned in Paternoster Square was real.

No one would understand what PROMETHEUS meant to Eggsy. This was his home, his family. He knew everyone in the group—their likes and dislikes, their pain and fears. The members of PROMETHEUS weren’t just mindless thugs following Harry blindly. They were men and women who banded together when the rest of the world had turned its back on them.

            Gazelle walked past Eggsy with a cordial nod. Eggsy flashed her a thumbs up, and her severe expression cracked. She held up her own private thumbs up before vanishing around the corner.

            Eggsy wound through the brightly lit hallways, making his way to the residential wing. PROMETHEUS HQ was a converted underground military base, which had been abandoned after the Second World War. The low of hum of electricity ran through the corridors, keeping Eggsy connected to Daisy, even when he wasn’t actually hooked up to her.

            “Bed, J.B.,” Eggsy ordered as he walked into the room, removing his gray and black varsity. He threw the jacket over the back of an arm chair in the corner of the room and stripped out of his clothes. Eggsy folded his jeans and blue-striped polo and placed them on the chair neatly.

            He reached up and stroked the black collar as he walked over to the bed. The golden tag tickled his collarbone. Engraved in the disc were the letters HH. Eggsy could still remember the day Harry had presented the collar to him. Harry, who always carried himself with confidence and grace, had looked so humbled and scared as he opened the box.

            Eggsy didn’t know why he was scared—he’d never been able to deny Harry of anything.

            Harry had fucked him thoroughly that night. Eggsy hadn’t been able to walk the next morning, the bones in his legs completely turned to jelly.

            Eggsy crawled on the bed and stretched out over the mattress, hands folded behind his back and crossed at the wrists.

* * * *

            Harry took a seat at his desk, accepting the tablet Gazelle handed to him. She moved silently over to the wet bar in the corner of the room and poured two glasses of whiskey. “The majority of the media reports coming in from the news are painting you as a monster.” Gazelle handed Harry one of the crystal tumblers. “But Eggsy’s been tracking some of the underground news feeds and groups, and there’s been a positive spike. Reports of Hesketh Pharmaceuticals’ connection with Prime Minister Parish and the Lampient Drug are spreading like wildfire. Charlie Hesketh now has a target painted on his back.”

            Harry took a sip of whiskey and scrolled through the reports with a swipe of his thumb. “What is Mr. Hesketh doing about it?”

            “He’s dropped the price down to seven hundred dollars and will be holding a press conference this afternoon. Prime Minister Parish is also speaking to the press and denouncing any claims to his connection with Hesketh.”

            “Of course he is.” Harry snorted derisively. “Do we have the reports Eggsy located?”

            “Yes.” Gazelle took a seat across from Harry, drinking her own whiskey with small sips. “Shall I leak them?”

            “Not yet. Wait until the press conference.” Harry set the tablet down. “Is everything arranged for the gala on the sixteenth?”

            “Eggsy and I are finalizing the security details, but everything should be a go,” Gazelle confirmed.

            “Excellent.” Harry set his half-finished glass down and pushed to his feet. “Then if that’s everything, I think I shall go celebrate our victory.”

            Gazelle downed the rest of the whiskey in a single swallow and fluidly rose to her feet. “I’m going to run a few perimeter checks, make sure no one followed. Will there be anything else?”

            “No, that’ll be all,” Harry said as he exited the room and headed for his bedroom. The lingering adrenaline that strummed through his veins pooled in the pit of his stomach. He’d contained himself all through the morning, but now that he was home, his excitement morphed into a hunger that could only be satiated by Eggsy’s pliant flesh and filthy reverent moans.

            He found Eggsy face down and stretched across the bed. Harry worked his tie loose with a crooked finger as he strolled over to the foot of the bed. “What a lovely sight,” Harry murmured, raking his gaze down the tan expanse of Eggsy’s back and the supple curve of his pert arse. “Now tell me, sweetling, what would you like your reward to be? Would you like me to split you open with my tongue and slowly bring you to climax one lick at a time? Or perhaps you would like me to suckle your cock until you’re ready to explode.”

            Eggsy shuddered, arse cheeks clenching and toes curling against the mattress. Harry smirked and dragged his undone tie off. “Or better yet, I can fuck your mouth until you’re choking. Do you want that, darling?”

            He was answered by a moan. Harry chuckled and shrugged out of his suit jacket, carefully folding it over the chair with Eggsy’s clothes. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

            “Want y’ to fuck me.” Eggsy turned his head so he was heard clearly. “Want to ride yer cock until I can’t see.”

            “I think we can arrange for that.” Harry finished stripping out of his clothes and moved onto the bed, one knee at a time. He slipped his hand up the back Eggsy’s thigh, dancing his fingers over the crux of where his leg met his arse, and then skimmed the pad of his thumb over the cleft of his arse. “Be a good boy and get the lubricant and leash.”

            Eggsy unfolded his arms and pushed himself up onto his knees. Harry watched him slide off the bed and collect the items. Eggsy’s eyes were blown wide with desire and a warm pink flush rose up his chest and neck. He gripped the leather leash in one hand and held out the bottle of lubricant in the other.

            Harry slid to the foot of the bed and accepted both the lubricant and the leash. He clipped the leash to the gold ring dangling from the collar, letting his finger graze the tag, and then carefully wound the buttery leather around his hand in a loose hold. Eggsy’s cock stood thick and proud, precum already dewing at the plump head. Harry considered forcing Eggsy to his knees, indulging in the idea of choking him on his cock, but he banished the thought in lieu of something far better.

            Nothing compared to being fully seated inside Eggsy, feeling his tight channel squeezing around his shaft as he pounded into his arse. Eggsy was always beautiful, but he was truly ethereal when he was riding Harry.

            Harry tugged on the leash, dragging Eggsy down until their lips crashed together. Eggsy swayed into the pull, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck with a sigh. Harry plied Eggsy’s mouth open with his tongue, tasting the tea he had earlier.

            The day Harry had found Eggsy (who happened to have hacked into his bank account and stolen a substantial amount of money for an animal shelter), he’d been like a rabid bulldog—all teeth and spit and terrified anger, snapping at anyone that came too close. But Harry had seen something more than some wild animal. He’d seen a boy with potential, a beautiful creature that needed only a little love to grow.

            Harry stroked his tongue along Eggsy’s bottom mouth, nibbling gently before he pulled away. Eggsy chased after his mouth. Harry stiffened his hold on the leash, preventing Eggsy from reigniting the kiss.

            “On your hands and knees, sweetling,” Harry ordered. He kissed Eggsy just under the chin, where the collar met flesh. Eggsy shuddered, and once Harry unwound the leash a little, he crawled onto the bed and took his position.

            Harry opened the lubricant bottle with a flick of his finger and poured some in his free hand. When the gel was warmed, he slipped a greased finger between Eggsy’s crack and circled his hole, swirling the pad of his finger along the tight entrance, relaxing the muscle that immediately tightened at his touch. He held firm on the leash, giving a pull to force Eggsy to look at him. Eggsy watched him with heavily hooded eyes and a droopy smile. The sight of him, already so far gone, and all Harry had done was _touch_ him, punched the air right out of his lungs.

            Harry took his time working Eggsy open, starting with one finger, which he shallowly thrust in, and building his way up to two. One day he would spread Eggsy open, work his hole loose, and watch as Eggsy came undone around his fist. Now wasn’t that time, though, so Harry worked his way to four fingers, applying extra lubricant when he needed it, until Eggsy was dripping around him. He crooked his fingers, forming an almost scoop with his hand, and dragged his digits along the hot slick wall of Eggsy’s channel, stroking over his prostate.

            Eggsy collapsed forward onto his shoulders and moaned low. Harry smiled, repeating the motion, earning another broken sob from his darling boy.

            “ _Please_ ,” Eggsy stammered out with a choked gasp. “Can’t, need… fuck, oh _fuuuck_ ‘Arry.”

            “I’m sorry, what was that love?” Harry asked with a hard thrust of his hand, earning a yowl in response. “You’ll have to speak clearly if you want me to know what you want.”

            “Fucking bastard,” Eggsy hissed without any true conviction, immediately thrusting back on Harry’s hand. Harry stopped moving his hand and watched as Eggsy fucked himself, almost tempted to make his boy come from this alone. Harry’s own pulsing cock compelled him to withdraw his hand, and Eggsy immediately whined in protest.

            “Shush,” Harry soothed. He tugged at the leash, and Eggsy shakily rose up on his knees, shifting down the bed so Harry could stretch out.

Eggsy licked his lips, and without being told, poured lubricant onto his hands. He lathered Harry up, taking his time to stroke the sensitive shaft and fondle his balls.

“Up you go,” Harry ordered, words strained. He tugged again at the leash, maneuvering Eggsy up onto his lap.

Eggsy shimmied up Harry’s thighs, pressing one hand against his shoulder for balance. He angled himself up, reaching back to take Harry’s cock in his hand, and then slowly sunk down. Nearly unbearable heat swallowed Harry’s prick. There were few pleasures Harry took for himself. Occasionally he enjoyed a glass of whiskey, and every now and then he’d indulge himself with a bit of treacle apple pudding; but of all his vices, this was by far the best. Eggsy squeezed around him, a one-size too small glove, and Harry couldn’t think of a better place to be in that moment than right there, his arms full of vibrant, insatiable life.

Eggsy let his head fall back, a strangled gasp slipping past his lips. He didn’t stop until he was fully seated. It took a few moments, but once Harry bottomed out, Eggsy leaned forward and sealed their mouths together.

“Fuck, ‘Arry.” Saliva dripped between their lips. Harry licked at the corner of Eggsy’s mouth, humming in response. “So full, fuck—y’ feel so good.”

Harry squeezed Eggsy’s hip and tangled his other hand in his boy’s sweat-slicked hair, murmuring, “You like being filled with my cock, sweetling?”

“Yes,” Eggsy slurred, beginning a slow undulation of his hips. “’s so good, stuffed full. Fuck, move ‘Arry. _Please._ ”

Harry wound the leash tighter around his hand and watched as Eggsy worked himself on top of him. Eggsy rose up on his knees, thighs trembling, and sunk down, impaling himself over and over on Harry’s cock. Sweat beaded along his chest, gathering at his pink nipples, which Harry plucked at absently.

Eggsy whined, high and needy, arching his spine. As he leaned back, Harry pulled on the leash, creating a tight suspension that held Eggsy close and made him whine more.

“Fucking bastard,” Eggsy cursed, “Making me do all the work. My reward, ain’t it?”

Harry chuckled. “So it is.”

He grabbed onto Eggsy’s hips, planted his feet on the bed, and slammed up as Eggsy came down. Eggsy’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Harry repeated the motion, drilling up into Eggsy with each downwards thrust.

He could feel his end drawing near, tension building in his stomach and between his shoulders, tightening with each tug of the leash and push upwards. Harry repositioned himself, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Eggsy, holding their bodies close until it was almost as if they were one. Eggsy’s cock rubbed between their stomachs, soaking Harry with precum. Eggsy reached between them and started to fist himself. Harry could feel Eggsy’s heartbeat against his own, his hot breath ghosting along the curve of Harry’s neck. Harry trailed his lips along the edge of the collar, breathing out, “ _Mine_.”

Eggsy stiffened in his arms, coming with a loud cry. His walls convulsed around Harry, and it was enough to push him over the edge. He held Eggsy close as he came.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was their harsh breaths and staccato heartbeats. Eggsy nuzzled the side of Harry’s head, rubbing his cheeks against Harry’s as if he were a cat scenting his master.

Harry pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered endearingly, “My darling boy.”

If Harry ever needed a reminder of his mission—of why he did what he did—all he had to do was look at the boy in his arms.


	3. The Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival is given a new assignment.

            The sunlight that streamed through the windows gleamed off the long mahogany table in the board room. While they considered themselves the Knights of the Round Table, said table wasn’t actually round. At one point in history, when Kingsman was still nubile and more vigilante than organized spy ring, the table was rumored to have been a circular dining table.

            Over the years, many disasters had been discussed at that table, one worse than the other. It was hard to really say if one travesty was really more terrible than the last, but there were definitely some more powerful than others. Some events were never even known to the public, while others were forgotten with time, fading back into the sea as the tides receded. And then there were events, monumental and earth-shattering travesties, which reshaped how the world worked.

            The bombing of the London Stock Exchange would become one of those events, Percival was sure of it.

            Merlin ended the security video of the fire. “We tried to pull up the footage of the stock floor, but the cameras were hacked and everything erased,” Merlin said. “The only feed we have of the inside is the video PROMETHEUS aired.”

            “What do we know about them?” Arthur asked.

            Arthur sat at the head of the table, silently studying the screen with a clenched jaw. More than lives were lost at the bombing. A major blow would have been made to many investors, including Chester King himself. Percival suspected that part of Arthur’s upset was due to the substantial amount of money he’d lost.

            “They’re an underground insurgent group helmed by Harold Hart, illegitimate son and only living heir to Raymond Davenford, of Davenford Industries.” Merlin typed something into his clipboard and a profile of Harold Hart popped up. “Mother was a shop girl, died when Harold was ten due to cancer. Harold went to live with his father, spending most of his time away in boarding schools. His only other siblings were a younger brother named Malcolm, who died when Harold was sixteen, and an older sister named Sarah. Schooled in Oxford, and after university started an inspiring career in politics. In his late twenties he dropped off the radar after his father’s death, only surfacing once or twice with a few underground extremist groups.”

            “What exactly are we looking at with them, Merlin?” A tension built along Arthur’s jaw, forming a steady tick.

            Percival opened up the file that Merlin had handed to him at the start of the meeting and flipped through the pages, glancing over gathered data. It wasn’t a thick file, barely anything there. In fact, what they did have was inconsequential, and Percival even suspected, handed to them of PROMETHEUS’s own volition.

            “He knows what he’s doing. Hart has employed powerful, capable men and women to help his movement. The woman with him, Gabriella Santos, is the daughter of Dominick Santos, leader of the Santos Cartel. He also has Gary Unwin in his services. Unwin made his mark when he hacked into MI6.” Merlin switched through the profiles, before settling on a screen capture of Harold Hart from his released video. “He has a following, and he’s gaining momentum.”

            “What’s our next move?” Percival asked.

            “He seems to be targeting at the moment Hesketh Pharmaceuticals. After the press release from Hesketh this afternoon, reports were released from PROMETHEUS revealing damaging material on Charlie Hesketh, including a report that links his company and with the H1N1 outbreak a few years back, among other things.” Merlin closed out the screen and removed his glasses. “Hesketh will be holding a charity gala on the sixteenth; we believe that PROMETHEUS will strike then. I’ve obtained tickets to the event for you. Lancelot will be monitoring Prime Minister Parish.”

            “I’ll do some digging until then, see what I can find out,” Percival said.

            “You can try,” Merlin said, only in half-jest. Though there weren’t any outward signs of fatigue, there was a ghosting of tiredness in his sterling eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me gentleman, I have some reports to look over.”

            Arthur nodded in dismissal. Percival remained seated for a moment, waiting until the door closed behind Merlin, before he said, “We must be careful Arthur. This isn’t some fly-by-the-night extremist group.”

            “Men like Hart never succeed,” Arthur stated, and he sounded so sure that Percival almost believed him, but he knew better. Arthur’s greatest downfall was that he always underestimated people.

            Percival rose to his feet, smoothing a hand down his navy tie. He observed Arthur quietly, wondering for the hundredth time how much longer Chester would lead Kingsman. “If that were true, then the United States wouldn’t exist today.”

            Percival left. He found Lancelot in his office, feet kicked up on his desk and a folder open in his lap.

            “This is nasty business,” James mused as Percival walked in. He snapped the folder close and glanced up. “I’m still not sure why I was given babysitting duty.”

            “Perhaps because they need someone to blend in, not stick out.” Percival pushed James’s feet off the desk. “Get out of my chair.”

            James threw the folder on top of the desk with a snort and stood, trapping Percival between himself and the desk. Percival hid a small shiver that raced down his spine as James’s heat radiated against him. He could smell traces of cinnamon and bergamot, mixed with the clove cigarettes James sometimes favored. Percival would never admit that he loved the aroma, the way it tingled his senses.

            “Have you reconsidered my offer?” James asked, wide mouth twisted up in a thousand-watt smile.

            Percival schooled his expression into one of indifference. “My answer still stands.”

            James blew out a sigh, though he didn’t look too put off. He trailed around the desk. “You’ll change your mind one day.”

            Percival took a seat, reorganizing the papers that had been shifted while James had been sitting. “Doubtful. The day I go out with you is the day you learn a little something called self-restraint. Now if you’re done playing the tom cat, can we get to work? The gala is only a few days away, and we need to get a clear idea of what we’re going up against.”

            James heaved an exaggerated sigh and flopped down in the chair across from Percival. “You really should learn to have some fun, Percy. All this work is just going to land you in an early grave.”

            “And your devil-may-care ways won’t? If I remember correctly, I’ve had to run in and save you five times. How many times have you had to do an extraction for me?” Percival tapped his chin. “Zero.”

            James pouted, glowering in Percival’s direction. Percival ignored the way his stomach squirmed and rolled over its self. He told himself long ago that he wouldn’t get involved with Lancelot. The extent of their relationship was coworkers, casual friends at best. Anything more and Percival was bound to get hurt. Men like James were wild and untamable. He was the wind, blowing through existent, leaving as quickly as he arrived. Percival was a mountain, solid and constant, remaining fixed in one place.

            Letting himself give into the heart flutters and short breaths was a sure way of finding himself in ruin.

            “Now, we’ll research his team, see what we can scrape up. You start with his right hand man, Gabriella Santos. I’ll look into Gary Unwin,” Percival said, opening the folder Merlin had provided. If he focused on work and not the way his blood sped up when James was around, he may actually be able to get through the day.


	4. The Trial of Charlie Hesketh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of London passes judgement on Charlie Hesketh. Will Percival be able to save him in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-betaed.
> 
> Please adhere to all tags listed.

            “Be careful,” Eggsy whispered against Harry’s mouth. It was the night of the gala, and while Eggsy and Gazelle had prepared for every scenario, Eggsy’s stomach still balled into an iron sphere of anxiety. A lot was riding on tonight. It was more than making Charlie Hesketh pay for his crimes. Tonight was about putting the decision and power into the hands of the people.

            Harry kissed him gently, licking his mouth open, carefully undoing Eggsy until it felt like the very threads holding him together would unravel. Harry pulled away with one last kiss and reassured, “Everything will be fine.” He brushed the back of his hand down the side of Eggsy’s face. “And when I get back tonight, we’ll celebrate.”

            The unspoken promise of what was to come warmed through Eggsy. If everything went right, Harry wouldn’t be leaving the bedroom for the next day or two.

            “The car is ready,” Gazelle announced from the door. She wore a long shimmering black gown, and Eggsy couldn’t help but think that she looked as if she were wrapped in starlight. The dress clung to her torso and flared at the waist, hiding her prosthetic legs.

            Eggsy stepped back, turning to her. “I’m counting on y’ coming back too. Can’t go losing my sparring partner.”

            “Who else is going to serve your arse to you?”

            “Oi! Who won our last match?”

            “If I don’t let you win once and awhile you’ll get upset.” Gazelle shot him a wry smile. She left before Eggsy could retaliate.

            “Go to Daisy,” Harry instructed. He dropped one last kiss to Eggsy’s cheek. “Tonight won’t happen without you.”

            Eggsy nodded, and once Harry left, he headed into his office. J.B. was already asleep in his dog bed in the corner of the room. Eggsy stopped in front of Daisy and laid his cheek against her surface, listening to the low electrical hum of life—her heartbeat. Eggsy closed his eyes and whispered, “We got work to do flowah. Y’ going to be a good girl and help yer big bruv out?”

            Eggsy still remembered his mother pregnant with his unborn sister, his little Daisy. She’d been so beautiful. Eggsy knew he was biased, but not one could deny Michelle Unwin’s grace. And while every pregnant woman glowed, Michelle _shined_.

            Maybe if society quit turning a blind-eye to men like Dean, maybe if the government protected its people instead of condemning them, and maybe if men like Charlie Hesketh didn’t charge absurd amounts of money for life-saving medication, than Michelle wouldn’t have died and Daisy would have survived.

            _No more._ Eggsy couldn’t change the past, but he could save someone else from suffering his fate.

            Eggsy pushed himself off Daisy and moved around to her side, hitting a button that lifted her lid with a hiss. He climbed into the pod and slipped on the helmet. Eggsy hit a switch and the pod closed, briefly submerging him in darkness before the screens flickered to life and Daisy’s program initiated.

            _Hello, big brother…_ scrolled across the screen.

            “Hello flowah. Ready to get to work?”

* * * *

            _“I was thinking after we finish up tonight, why don’t you and I go out for a drink?”_ James suggested, his melodic voice ringing through Percival’s ears.

            “Why don’t you concern yourself less with what happens later tonight and more with watching the Prime Minister,” Percival suggested. He picked up a champagne flute from a passing waiter and turned around slowly, taking in the hotel ball room.

            _“The Prime Minister isn’t going anywhere.”_

_“Gentleman, if you could each focus on your jobs.”_ Merlin cut in.

            _“Way to cock block.”_ There wasn’t any true infliction to James’s words, though Percival thought he heard a trace of a sigh. Percival bit his bottom lip. Would a drink really hurt? He did enjoy James’s company, at least when he wasn’t being a giant peacock.

            Of course, drinks could lead to something more, and the last thing Percival needed was to wind up in James’s bed. No, it was better to stick to his guns and keep things strictly business.

            _“I’m not giving up,”_ James promised.

            “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Lancelot,” Percival murmured.

            He surveyed the room as he drifted through the crowd of elegantly dressed guests. A band played on stage at the far end, where a podium was set up. Security was tight, visible guards stationed at every entrance and corner of the room. While no one appeared as an outright threat, Percival didn’t doubt that any one of the guests could be a potential danger.

_“Any sign of Hesketh yet?”_ Merlin asked.

            “No.” Percival smiled politely to a woman iced in diamonds. A cloying cloud of perfume trailed behind her as she walked past, assaulting his nose. “No sign of Hart or Santos either.”

_“The night is early. Keep your eyes open.”_

            Percival took a sip of champagne, the sweet bubbles tickling his tongue, and then set the glass down on a passing tray. Something was off. Percival wasn’t sure what, but his senses were telling him that the entire set up was wrong. Going after Hesketh at the party was too big of a risk. There were too many possibilities of security getting involved. While PROMETHEUS may have been able to infiltrate the London Stock Exchange, they had the advantage of being anonymous. They could move through the system like ghosts. Now, security would be on high alert and looking for Hart.

            “Merlin, where is Hesketh coming from?”

_“He’s staying at the Mordicai, where they’re hosting the ball. He checked in this afternoon.”_

            The band switched songs, moving to a slower waltz. Percival politely declined a request to dance. When the woman left, Percival asked, “Can you access his room? Is he still there?”

_“Give me a minute.”_ The silence only lasted a few seconds. _“He left his room at 8:13 and got on the elevator at exactly 8:15.”_

            “Do you show him going anywhere else in the hotel?”

_“No… he never got off the elevator.”_

            “What?”

_“The elevator stopped on the sixteenth floor at 8:18. A dark haired woman got on. When it reached ground level, neither Hesketh or the woman got off.”_

            Percival let out a string of curses and headed straight for the doors. “See if you can find traces of them anywhere in the hotel. I’m going to check Hesketh’s room.”

            Why hadn’t they realized sooner? Percival had thought that PROMETHEUS would make the event another extravagant show. Hart was an entertainer, nearly as flamboyant and showboaty as James. He thrived on the attention of others. A public execution at the gala would have been right up his ally—but maybe Hart realized security would know that.

_“He’s on the top floor; room 689, the presidential suite.”_ Percival took the lift up to Hesketh’s penthouse suite. _“Someone tampered with the security feed. It’s been placed on a loop. James what’s your status with the Prime Minister?”_

_“Everything is clear. I can see him from the window now.”_

            The lift doors opened. Percival slipped his gun out and said, “Door.”

            The electronic lock turned green and Percival opened the door, gun raised. The hotel room appeared empty, but he did a full sweep to verify. He stopped in the middle of the room when he finished, gun pointed at the floor, and said, “They got him, Merlin.”

* * * *

            “Let me go!” Charlie Hesketh yelled. Harry watched from a distance as Hesketh squirmed, tugging futilely at his restraints. A black bag covered his head, and a small section of fabric rapidly drew in and out as Hesketh struggled to breathe.

            Water dripped from somewhere in the warehouse, counting the seconds between each of Hesketh’s screams. Harry nodded to Gazelle and she removed the bag. Hesketh blinked, squinting into the distance. His pupils flared and shrunk, adjusting to the light, before widening in fear.

            “Good evening Mr. Hesketh,” Harry greeted, remaining in the shadows.

            Hesketh looked around. “Who—let me fucking go!” His voice lilted to a sharp octave. “I can give you whatever you want, j-just—just fucking let me go!”

            “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, you’ve been charged with a list of serious crimes, and now it’s time for you to be judged for them.”

            “Who the fuck are you?” Hesketh demanded, spittle slicking his chin. He turned to Gazelle. “Please, let me go. I-I haven’t done anything.” When she remained motionless, he slammed his feet down and screamed. “You fucking bitch!”

            “Temper, Mr. Hesketh.” Harry warned. “You will be let go if you’re found innocent.”

            Hesketh jerked his head around, scanning the dingy warehouse. “W-what?”

            “You will be put on trial, and should the people find you innocent of your crimes, I will release you. _But_ , should you be found guilty, you will be executed. Right here.”

            A choked sob ripped form Hesketh’s lips. He dropped his head and whispered, “Please—I didn’t _do_ anything.”

            “But you have, Mr. Hesketh. The prodigious list of crimes you’ve committed are almost too grand to check off. Theft, fraudulence, blackmail, extortion, and we mustn’t forget, genocide.” Harry stepped out of the shadows and into a beam of moonlight that streamed through one of the broken windows. Hesketh stiffened, his skin going bleach white as he gazed at Harry. The metal chair Hesketh was bound in began to rattle against the concrete floor. “A fire has started Mr. Hesketh, one that’ll cleanse London, and from the ashes a new era will arise—the era of man.”

            “You’re fucking crazy!” Hesketh shouted, fighting harder against his restraints.

            “Gazelle, darling, if you could be so kind?” Harry asked.

            Gazelle materialized a roll of duct tape and slapped a strip across Hesketh’s mouth, promptly stifling his screams into muffled bellows. “Quiet,” She whispered, squeezing Hesketh’s chin between her fingers and shaking his head. “Screaming won’t do anything.”

            “Thank you.” Harry really wasn’t sure how much longer he could listen to Hesketh’s benign prattling. It was starting to give him a headache. “Sweetling, are we ready?”

            _“Yes, ‘Arry. Ready to go live whenever y’ are.”_

            Harry nodded to Gazelle, who moved to stand in front of Hesketh, holding up an iPhone. Harry walked around to stand behind him. “Shall we begin?”

            _“You’re live in, three…two…one!”_

“Citizens of London, I come to you tonight with an opportunity, a chance to put the power back in the hands of the people.” Harry laced his fingers in Hesketh’s sweaty curls and tugged his head up, angling his face so it was in perfect view of the camera. “I have before me Charlie Hesketh, President of Hesketh Pharmaceuticals. He stands before us charged with crimes ranging from fraudulence to mass genocide. Tonight, you will decide if he is innocent or guilty. You will decide in what direction your country will move.”

            _“Fucking hell, ‘Arry. The numbers keep rising—we’re getting thousands of hits per second. Everyone is watching.”_

            Harry removed his hand from Hesketh’s hair, resisting the urge to wipe his sweat-slicked hand against his pant leg. Hesketh screamed, but the words were smothered by the tape. “Too long have we prostrated ourselves at the feet of men like Charlie Hesketh, baring our throats for the slaughter, while they spend our blood like gold. We are on the precipice of change, but it is your choice whether we take back our rights and freedom. Cast your vote, decide whether Charlie Hesketh will live, or if he will pay for his crimes and die.”

            Hesketh’s screams broke into pleading sobs. He shook his head, tugging and jerking against the thick rope. The stinging stench of ammonia filled the room.

            _“They’re coming in. Fuck, fuck—they’re doing it.”_

            Harry savored Eggsy’s excitement. He gave it five minutes, letting the world watch Hesketh piss himself as he waited for his fate to be decided.

_“Guilty.”_ Eggsy crowed. _“Fucking guilty!”_

            Harry let the verdict wash over him. This was it. The world was listening. The spark from the London Stock Exchange had ignited and caught fire. Soon Harry would watch the government burn. It wouldn’t be by his hands, but by the people. Harry had done his job, had delivered the fire back to man, and now it was time for them to decide their fate—and they had chosen.

            “The people have spoken, and they’ve found Charlie Hesketh guilty.” Harry withdrew a black TT pistol from his back holster. Hesketh’s screams grew louder. He thrashed in the chair, trying to rock forward. Harry aimed the gun at the back of his head, and without blinking, pulled the trigger.


	5. A Pint of Guinness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival agrees to a drink with James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be two more chapters after this. I have the sixth one already written, so it'll probably be up in the next few days. As always, self-betaed.

            “It wasn’t your fault,” James said. Percival knew he meant it as support, but all it did was further agitate him. It _was_ his fault. Percival should have realized sooner that something was wrong. Because of his screw up, Charlie Hesketh was dead.

            The days following Hesketh’s execution—and that’s what it was, a public execution streamed live over the Internet—had been nothing short of long. Since Hesketh’s death, a series of upheavals have taken place in Parliament, along with multiple riots breaking out across London.  Activist groups have used PROMETHEUS’s attacks as momentum for their own agendas. King’s Cross had been turned into a warzone. BBC news aired a constant stream of reports about volatile riots and the bedlam that took place in Parliament.

            Just yesterday several prominent members stepped down. The Queen was on constant watch. Prime Minister Parish had been moved to a safe house, but Percival was beginning to doubt that even at the new remote location, he wouldn’t be safe from PROMETHEUS’s reach.

            If Percival had been faster, hadn’t been so distracted by James, maybe he would have made the connection and all of this could have been avoided.

            “He’s right, Percival,” Merlin said. The last few days hadn’t been kind to the wizard. His fifty years suddenly seemed doubled, large shadows cast under his eyes, and the wrinkles bracketing his mouth and creasing his brow now as deep as canyons. “I’m as much to blame. I should have been monitoring Hesketh’s arrival.”

            “That isn’t—no, damn it, that’s not what I meant,” James said. He looked like he was ready to pull his hair out. “Look, it doesn’t matter who’s to blame. What matters now is what our next steps are.”

            Percival picked up his tea cup and took a sip. As much as he hated to admit it, Lancelot was right. He couldn’t dwell on what had been or could have been, what he needed to do now was pour his focus into stopping Hart.

            “And what do you suggest that is?” Percival asked.

            They were all gathered in Merlin’s office, which had been turned into a war room. Despite hours spent digging into the far reaches of the Ethernet, Percival hadn’t been able to scrape up any information on the lead members of PROMETHEUS. Someone—Percival suspected Eggsy Unwin—had taken great pains in erasing them from existence. A stubborn headache had consistently been humming behind Percival’s left eye since the gala.

            James held up a finger, mouth open. He snapped his jaw closed and lowered his hand. “I don’t know.”

            Percival rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

            “I’ve been running a trace on the IP address from the server that hosted the execution. It keeps bouncing off of mirror accounts.” Did Merlin sound impressed? It wasn’t often that he met his match, but it seemed like he finally had in Unwin. “If we can find the original, I should be able to pinpoint where their base is.”

            “Do you think you’ll be able to?” James asked.

            “It’ll take awhile—there’s a lot to go through—but I should.”

            “I guess until then we just wait.” Percival hated to sit around and do nothing, but there wasn’t any work for him until Merlin had a location.

            “Great, then you can join me for a drink!” James said.

            “I—”

            “Are completely free,” James pointed out with a proud smirk. “It’s a pint, Robyn. Not a bloody marriage proposal.”

            Percival flushed. With a huff he said, “Fine. One drink.”

* * * *

            Percival wasn’t sure why he’d agreed. Fraternizing with James was a one way ticket to Hurtsville. But before he could come up with a legitimate excuse as to why a drink was bad—all he had to do was say that they couldn’t afford to drink at a time like this, damn it—Percival had agreed, and now here he was, sitting in the back of a pub with a pint of Guinness. He was fucked.

            Well, maybe he could salvage the situation. Direct the conversation towards the mission. That was a safe topic.

            “No work discussion,” James said as Percival opened his mouth. Percival immediately snapped his mouth closed with a scour. James smirked. “I know what you’re thinking.”

            “Oh, you do, do you? And what’s that?” Percival cocked an eyebrow as he picked up his beer.

            “That if we talk about business, you’ll be safe.” James shot him with a challenging look. Percival glanced away. The fact that James knew him that well made his stomach flip. He took a long drink of Guinness. James chuckled. “Thought so. Look, you don’t have to be all worried. I’m not going to hit on you. This is just two mates out for a drink, all right?”

            Percival was doubtful—Lancelot _was_ a notorious Casanova—but he nodded, relaxing into the booth. “Fair enough.”

            “You know, it’s okay to not always be on guard. Not everyone is a potential threat.”

            “Perhaps, but it’s better to have your guard up and see an attack coming, than your defense down and get stabbed in the back.”

            Percival had seen too many of his fellow agents fall because they dropped their guard. Percival wouldn’t be one of them. He didn’t plan on anyone toasting a thimble of Dalmore Whiskey to his life for a very long time.

            He caught a trace of smile curling along James’s mouth as he took a sip of beer. Percival pursed his lips together. “While some of us live a frivolous life, where the only responsibility we hold is turning up to work sober, others of us have obligations to uphold, people who they’re liable for. I can’t afford to take such a lackadaisical approach to life.”

            “Got a girlfriend waiting at home, do you Robbie?” James said it jestingly, but there was an edge to the word ‘girlfriend’, as if it sliced James’s tongue as he spat it out.

            “Don’t call me Robbie,” Percival grumbled, then said, “No, no girlfriend, or boyfriend before you asked.”

            James’s gaze relaxed, the crease between his brows smoothing out. He didn’t press for further explanation, but the question hung in his dark eyes. Percival blew out a long sigh and set his beer down. “I have a niece. When she was a seven, my sister and brother-in-law passed away. I’ve been raising her ever since. And while she’s an adult now, I’m still her only living relative. And I don’t plan on leaving her anytime soon.”

            “What’s her name?” James asked. He folded his arms across the top of the table and watched Percival eagerly. It was like Percival had just offered a scrap to a half-starved dog.

            Percival glanced down into the murky blackness of his Guinness. The pale, creamy foam had faded to a ring around the tall mug. Perspiration slid down the side, slicking his fingertips. He never spoke about his personal life. He kept it completely separate from Kingsman. But James stared at him so earnestly, with rapt attention, and something inside Percival wanted to share.

            “Roxanne,” Percival said. He smiled just thinking about her. “Roxy for short.”

            “How old is she?”

            “Twenty-four. She’s studying at Oxford right now.” A slow smile crept across James’s face. He chuckled, shaking his head. Percival blinked, frowning. “What?”

            “Nothing, it’s just… I’ve never seen you look so happy. Your eyes light up when you talk about her. It’s nice.”

            Percival flushed, glowering down at his drink. “Well…”

            He didn’t get to finish. Over the comm Merlin cut in. _“I’ve located it. Both of you get back to HQ immediately for a debriefing.”_

            “On our way.” Percival felt a ping of regret. He actually wanted to finish their drink. Percival stood, hesitating next to the table. He straightened his suit jacket and said, “Maybe… maybe when we finish with Hart, you and I can finish our drink.”

            “I’d like that,” James said and smiled up at him, the laugh lines deepening around his mouth. Percival’s breath hitched. He really hoped he didn’t regret this.


	6. To Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Eggsy celebrate a job well done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-betaed.
> 
> I'm not sure if there'll be one or two more chapters after this one. It depends on how the next chapter turns out. You should get it in the next couple weeks.

            Gazelle set a file on top of Harry’s desk. “Here is the report Eggsy compiled on Prime Minister Parish’s location. I have an extraction team on standby, and Eggsy confirmed that he could shut down security for us.”

            Harry opened the folder, but watched the monitors on the screen behind Gazelle. News reports streamed across the televisions, relaying the status of the King’s Cross and Westminster Bridge riots. A curfew was instilled in an attempt to curb protestors, but it only further incensed the masses.

            Since Charlie Hesketh’s death, London had spiraled deeper into a state of anarchy. A sense of satisfaction warmed through Harry as he watched his plans fall into place. More and more insurgent and activist groups—social justice warriors, eco-terrorists, and even political fighters—stepped forward, wielding figurative torches and setting fire to the streets.

            “Also, a new report was released from the media. Anonymous has stepped in and released the financial records of all the members of Parliament,” Gazelle said. “It’s caused quite a stir. Protesters are asking for the resignation of several prominent members.”

            “It won’t be long before the entire system comes down.” And when that day finally came, Harry would be there to watch. The thought made him smile. He’d waited a long time for this moment, and he would relish every second.

            “What do you want me to do about Parish?”

            “Nothing yet. Let the crowds feed off of the records Anonymous released. Give it time and Parish will make a misstep that’ll send the masses into a frenzy. Then we’ll drag him out from his hole and make him pay.”

            “Understood.” Gazelle hesitated, then added with a playful smile. “Eggsy also wanted me to tell you that he has a surprise for you. You’re supposed to meet him in the bedroom.”

            “Oh?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Should I be scared?”

            Gazelle shrugged. “It’s Eggsy. Shouldn’t you always be a little scared?”

            “Good point. Please make sure I don’t get any disturbances.”

            “I don’t think I need to remind you that I’m not your secretary,” Gazelle stated, though her smile never wilted. “But since I don’t want another incident where one of my men runs out of here screaming, I’ll keep the troops busy. I’m going to run a few more parameters on security. Eggsy is running some system checks on Daisy, so he mentioned that security systems will be lack for a little while. With as much progress we’ve been making, we’ve no doubt drawn the attention of a few military groups.”

            “How long is the system down?” Harry asked.

            “Eggsy said it should only be a couple hours.”

            “All right. Let me know if anything pops up. Double patrol and have a surveillance team watching at all times until the servers are back up.”

            Gazelle left with a nod, and Harry went to find Eggsy in their bedroom. He discovered him stretched out on the bed, naked except for a thin black leash, which was hooked to his collar.

            “What do I owe the occasion?” Harry asked, already working his tie loose with a finger.

            “Do I need a special occasion?” Eggsy shifted, dropping his legs open and giving Harry a glimpse of the black butt plug nestled between his cheeks. “Thought we could both use some celebrating.”

            Harry stripped out of his jacket and shirt, discarding the articles of clothing on the chair. “You always do come up with the most splendid of ideas.”

            “Someone has to. Otherwise y’d just work yer self into an early grave. Got to live a little, enjoy the simple pleasures in life and all.”

            Harry kicked off his shoes and slipped out of his pants and briefs. He walked over to the bed, raking his gaze across Eggsy’s sinewy form, and murmured, “And you are indeed one of my greatest pleasures.”

            A flush spread across Eggsy’s chest. Harry smirked and held his hand out for the leash. Eggsy shifted down the bed and handed Harry the length of leather, which he wound around his hand until it was pulled tight.

            “How should we celebrate, my sweet?” Harry asked, his forehead pressed against Eggsy’s. He traced a finger along Eggsy’s plump bottom lip—this was a mouth made for sucking his cock. The thought of Eggsy’s lips wrapped around his length, cheeks hollowed and eyes damp, sent a small shiver of exhilaration down Harry’s spine.

            A sly grin slowly spread across Eggsy’s mouth. He slid off the bed to the floor, legs folded beneath him. Harry let some of the leash go slack, allowing Eggsy to move comfortably into position. Eggsy nuzzled Harry’s flaccid cock, mouthing at the shaft, and coaxing him into hardness.

            Harry tangled his fingers in Eggsy’s short blond strands, forcing his head to tip back. Eggsy’s mouth glided along the head of Harry’s cock. He flicked his tongue out across the slit.

            “Use my mouth ‘Arry. Wanna taste y’. Need it.”

Eggsy’s husky timber nearly crumbled Harry’s control. He painted Eggsy’s lips with the precum that dribbled on the tip of his dick, and Eggsy moaned, chasing after his member, eagerly suckling on the head. There was no question of trust between them. Eggsy knew Harry would take care of him. They pushed each other to their limits, experienced new levels of intimacy neither had shared with anyone else; knowing that Eggsy trusted him completely, that there wasn’t a shred of doubt between them, filled Harry with awe.

Eggsy opened his mouth, flattening his tongue along the bottom of Harry’s cock as Harry rocked forward. His eyes fluttered closed as Eggsy tightened his lips around his member, creating a blissful seal that scattered embers inside Harry’s gut.

Harry tightened his grip in Eggsy’s hair pushed deeper into the wet heat. Eggsy grabbed onto Harry’s hips and dug his fingers in, nails biting at his flesh. Harry opened his eyes and looked down at Eggsy, watching as his dick vanished into his mouth. Eggsy rolled his eyes up, pupils blown wide, and suckled on the tip of Harry’s cock as he drew out. A small trail of saliva began to dribble out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry tugged on the leash, forcing Eggsy down on his cock. Eggsy swallowed him to the root with a pleased moan, the vibrations racing down his shaft and straight to his bollocks. Harry canted his hips forward with strained groan. The muscles in his arse hurt from clenching as he tried to maintain a semblance of control—something he always lost when in Eggsy’s presence.

Eggsy stroked his thumb along the sharp curve of Harry’s hip bone and gave a small squeeze. Harry took it as the signal for more and began to pick up his pace, steadily building to a hard thrust. Eggsy’s mouth went slack around him, and Harry grabbed onto his head, holding firm as he began to fuck Eggsy’s mouth with brutal force.

Eggsy took it, eyes glassly and saliva dribbling from his mouth. His hands fell away from Harry’s hips. Harry wanted to come like this, to fill Eggsy’s sweet mouth with cum and watch it leak from the corner of his lips, but he restrained himself—he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

“Shit,” Harry hissed, tightening his grip on the back of Eggsy’s head. “Such a fucking good mouth.”

A sharp tingling pressure began to form at the base of his spine and his stomach muscles tightened. He was so close.

Harry pulled at the leash, forcing Eggsy to release his cock. A string of saliva connected from the head of Harry’s dick to Eggsy’s swollen lips.

“Look at you,” Harry murmured in awe, stroking his thumb along Eggsy’s bottom lip and breaking the rope of saliva. “So gorgeous.” He tugged at the leash, forcing Eggsy to his feet. “On the bed, love. Hands and knees.”

Harry let the leash go slack in his grip, allowing Eggsy to freely crawl on the bed and present his arse. The shiny plug was nestled between his cheeks, a little black dot in the center of a peach. Harry pressed against the base of the plug, pushing it deeper in and earning a low mewl from Eggsy.

“The sounds you make.”

They were sinful, and Harry wanted to be the only one that ever heard Eggsy moan. He removed the plug and dropped it on the floor. Eggsy’s hole was flushed and glistening from the lubricant used to insert the plug. Harry slipped the tip of his finger in, stroking along Eggsy’s sensitive inner wall.

“I’m going to slowly take you apart, until you’re sobbing for me to let you cum,” Harry said.

A shudder raked down Eggsy. Harry smirked and shifted behind him, letting go of the leash so he could part Eggsy’s arse with both hands. Harry leaned down and licked a stripe over Eggsy’s hole.

“ _Fuuuck_ ,” Eggsy groaned. His arse cheeks tensed against Harry’s palms. Harry repeated the gesture, and Eggsy sobbed out a slur of curses. “Christ ‘Arry—I— _nnngh._ ”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite understand that.” Harry chuckled and swirled the tip of his tongue along Eggsy’s quivering ring. He was tart and salty, and every taste made Harry’s mouth salivate more. He pressed a loud wet kiss to Eggsy’s hole, earning a yowl, which broke into a choked gasp when Harry stabbed his tongue past the loose barrier and began to fuck Eggsy with the muscle.

“Christchristchrist--- _fucking hell!_ ” Eggsy started to rock back against Harry’s face.

Saliva dribbled from the corner of Harry’s mouth, but he ignored it and continued to slurp and lick his way through Eggsy, eating him out as if he was intent on completely devouring Eggsy.

“’Arry—gonna—gon— _please!_ ” Eggsy cried, the garbled words wrecked and trembling, each one caught on a short breath.

Harry pulled away, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “Okay love. It’s alright. You’re doing so beautifully,” Harry praised, stroking Eggsy’s hip. “Can you hold out a little longer for me?”

The only sound Eggsy made were heavy erratic breaths. Harry kissed his lower back and repeated, “Can you hold out, love?” Eggsy whimpered and nodded his head, but Harry wanted to hear it. “Words, my darling.”

“Yes,” Eggsy whispered hoarsely.

“Good boy. Such a good boy. My favorite darling boy.”

Eggsy shuddered at the praise. Harry fetched the lubricant and climbed onto the bed behind Eggsy. He hastily slicked his cock up and lined himself up with Eggsy’s entrance. He picked up the leash in his clean hand, winding it until it pulled tight.

“I got you,” Harry said as he breached Eggsy’s hole. He slipped slowly until the unbearable heat, allowing Eggsy to adjust to his girth, which was slightly larger than the butt plug he had used. “Never going to let you go, sweetling.”

“’Arry,” Eggsy breathed out, the single word a prayer.

Whatever happened in the future, whatever shape the world took, whatever success or failures Harry achieved, none of it would compare to the feeling of completeness he got when he was fully connected with Eggsy. _My darling boy._

Harry stopped when he bottomed out, allowing himself a few seconds to regain composure, before he began a leisure pace. Eggsy tightened his grip on the comforter, head hanging between his shoulders. Harry tugged at the leash, forcing Eggsy to lift his head. He began to pick up speed, a steady cant, which rocked Eggsy forward. Harry pulled at the leash each time Eggsy rocked back, adding momentum to the thrust.

Eggsy couldn’t speak. All he could do was connect garbled syllabus with alternating inflictions, which came out in a long moan. Harry struggled to keep his eyes open, to watch as Eggsy splintered around him and scattered into stardust. He knew it was just a trick of the light, but Harry swore that Eggsy glowed, the sweat on his skin dewy and glittering.

This was the closes Harry had come to nirvana.

His rhythm began to falter as the familiar tingling tension began to build at the base of his spine again. He adjusted the angle of his hip and slammed forward. Eggsy half-cried and half-screamed as his upper body collapsed against the mattress. Harry repeated the motion, and Eggsy sobbed, pleading, “Let me come, let me come, please, please, please.”

“Go ahead darling,” Harry managed to get out between grunts.

Eggsy sobbed gratefully and his hole began to convulse around Harry, squeezing and milking his cock. The additional pressure was all he needed to come. Harry stiffened behind Eggsy, pressing in as deep as possible, and came hard.

He held his position until the last aftershocks of his orgasm had faded. Every muscle in Harry’s body screamed. He withdrew from Eggsy with a groan. Cum leaked from Eggsy’s red, puffy hole, and he swiped his thumb along it, pressing the pearly bead back inside. Eggsy whimpered.

Harry moved around him, carefully maneuvering Eggsy so he could remove the soiled comforter. He then went and fetched a clean cloth to wash himself off with, and a second one to clean Eggsy. When they were both bathed, Harry retrieved a glass of water for Eggsy. He pressed the cup to his lips, ordering, “Drink.”

Eggsy greedily drank the water. Drying tear tracks striped his cheeks. Harry pressed kisses to each of his cheeks and eyelids when Eggsy finished drinking. They slipped under the sheets, and Eggsy gravitated to Harry, curling against his side.

“You were wonderful, sweetling,” Harry murmured, dotting his face with fond kisses.

Harry tightened his arm around him. Eggsy rested his head on Harry’s chest and mumbled sleepily, “Can y’ believe that it’s all coming together? The world is seeing the truth.”

They were, and once the Prime Minister was gone, London would begin its rebirth.

Harry closed his eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily over his bones. He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until he was startled awake by the sharp blare of the security alarm and a loud explosion.


	7. There Will Be Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things spiral out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-edited.
> 
> There will be one more chapter after this. I decided to split it because the next two scenes didn't really fit with the current one.
> 
> Please note I've added some tags.

            How did this happen? How did they come to this point, this new place in the road, when the path had been so different a moment ago? Everything had been so assured, so infinite and clear, a painted picture that Harry could see every detail of minutes ago.

            Now he was scrambling to regain his composure, the ground dropped out from beneath his feet and leaving him suspended over a black abyss.

            He sprinted down the hall, Eggsy close behind him, and drew his Tolkov from his back holster as he rounded the corner. A man in full tactical gear turned the corner at the same time. Harry moved in a fluid motion, deflecting the blows from the assailant and retaliating with a strike to his unguarded side, and then a palm thrust up, exposing supple throat. Harry shot him in the chin, the force of the blow knocking the man into the stone wall.

“Wot the fuck is going on? How did anyone find us?” Eggsy asked, looking from the dead attacker to Harry.

_Security will be lack for a couple hours._ That was what Gazelle had said.

Harry grabbed Eggsy’s hand and said, “We need to get you to my office.”

There was a secret passage there, which would lead Eggsy to safety. Eggsy jerked his hand out of his grip. “No, we need to get _y’_ to safety.” Eggsy set his jaw stubbornly, and Harry knew there wouldn’t be fighting him. Eggsy’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Daisy! I got to—”

“ _No_.” Harry deadpanned. He hated to be the one to put that crestfallen expression on Eggsy’s face, but they couldn’t risk going to Daisy. He knew how much she meant to him, but it was too dangerous, and Eggsy was too vital. They would rebuild if they had to.

“But—”

“We don’t have time to argue. The office, _now_.” Harry said, and started down the hall. Anyone he didn’t recognize, Harry shot.

Harry entered the main hanger, a large open space that acted as a central point, and connected all the halls of the lair. The hanger doubled as storage for their vehicles. Currently, it was a battleground.

Gazelle lead a battalion of men. She glided across the room, sparks flying off the metal tips of her prosthetic legs, and quite literally sliced through the enemy. She was Harry’s sword, cold steel dripping in blood, and she cleaved through the masses with brutal agility.

It seemed as if the attack was being orchestrated by two men, who worked as a single unit. They were dressed in the same tactical gear as the others, but stood separate from the rest.

“Y’ need to find somewhere to hide,” Eggsy instructed as he picked up a discarded gun. He checked to make sure it was loaded, then turned towards the fray.

“I’m  not going to hide while my men fight,” Harry stated, and Eggsy shot him a furious glare. Neither were willing to back down. Harry would have liked for Eggsy to go somewhere safe, but he knew Eggsy could handle himself—Harry had trained him, after all—and he would never turn tail and hide.

If they were to fight, they would fight together.

Eggsy blew out a sigh and nodded. “Try not to get shot.”

“If you would be so kind to do the same,” Harry quipped back.

Eggsy ran into the madness, a young god leaping into a hell mouth, his sword a gun, and his courage burning in his eyes. Harry couldn’t focus on Eggsy, he had to keep his attention on deflecting attacks from the enemy, but every now and then he caught a glimpse of Eggsy’s lean form defying gravity.

Gazelle was a deadly whisper that skidded past Harry occasionally. Gunshots thundered in the vaulted room. Slowly, Harry’s men fell, leaving only the three of them to fight. Harry lost himself in the violence, forgetting everything but the raw kinetic energy and visceral carnage rooted in his soul; the primeval desire to see dripping red directed into bloody fists and hot bullets.

He didn’t know how many he killed, but when he came to, there were bodies surrounding his feet, and Gazelle and Eggsy standing beside him. In front of them were the two men in tactical, the only ones alive.

A malicious smile slowly spread across Harry’s face. He wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and smoothed his other hand through his hair, flattening the flyaway strands.

“I don’t know who you are, and truthfully, I don’t care.”

“All you need to know is that we’re the men who will kill you,” The man on the left said. He was slightly taller than his companion. Harry couldn’t see his face due to the tactical helmet, but he got the odd sense the man was smiling wryly at him.

“I’m not going to offer you a chance to escape. Partially because I don’t believe you’d take it, but mostly because you rudely disturbed my sleep, and I can’t condone such behavior.” Harry had no plans of launching into a tangent about his diabolical plans. Villain monologues were blasé, and Harry had better uses for his time—like finding a new hide out. “Eggsy, Gazelle. You know what to do.”

The two men launched forward as Eggsy and Gazelle went for the kill. It was a flash of flesh and steel, a whirlwind tainted with blood, and Harry couldn’t keep track of any of their movements. As soon as he caught sight of either Eggsy or Gazelle, they moved, deflecting blow after merciless blow.

Harry swapped out his magazine and moved out of the way, finding a car to hunker behind as Gazelle and Eggsy fought. He looked over the hood of the black Mercedes and caught sight of the second, shorter man. He narrowly missed being sliced in half by Gazelle’s leg. There wasn’t a clear shot, and any available would do little damage thanks to the protection the men wore.

The shorter man battling Gazelle moved, arm raise do deflect a punch, exposing a vulnerable section of the gear, where his side wasn’t armored. Harry shot him in the side, and the man hit the floor with a cry.

“Percival,” The taller man yelled as his companion collapsed.

Everything happened too fast for Harry to keep track. He lined up another shot, but before he could fire the round, the taller man shot three rounds into Eggsy, sending him flat on his back, and moved to his companion’s—Percival’s—side.

Harry’s heart stopped dead in his chest. Coldness swept through him, a frosty burn that spread through his veins like permafrost.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t how it ended. He tried to look away, tried to blink, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Eggsy.

Eggsy didn’t get up. Three red blossoms bloomed on his shirt, two in the shoulder and one in the stomach.

Harry could hear the cracks forming in his soul. He felt the deep, penetrating fissures, which split him down the center.

This wasn’t real. It wasn’t.

His mind went black, the absence of everything but a single thought— _kill_.

“Gazelle!” Harry screamed. “Kill him! I want him dead!”

Harry holstered his gun and launched over the car hood. He ran to Eggsy and dropped to his knees at his side. An unsteady breath escaped Harry as he whispered, “E-Eggsy, sweetling. Look at me.”

Eggsy groaned, his expression contorted. Harry choked back his fear and whispered, “It’s okay, darling. I got you. We’re going to get you patched up.”

Harry knew it was dangerous to move Eggsy, but he had to get him to safety and medical attention. “Forgive me,” Harry murmured before he scooped Eggsy up into his arms as gently as possible. Eggsy cried in pain.

Harry turned to Gazelle just as she sliced the man’s throat with a round house kick. The man dropped his gun and grabbed for his throat, trying to staunch the heavy flow of blood. Harry wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes, to stand there and make sure they both _died_ , but he couldn’t with Eggsy losing so much blood.

“Gazelle!” Harry shouted, already making his way towards the door.

When they reached his office, Harry opened a secret passage, which led to an elevator that carried them down to a lower level where an airplane was housed. They boarded the plane and Gazelle immediately went to the cockpit, while Harry carried him into the conference room and laid him out on the glossy mahogany table.

Harry retrieved the medical equipment they had stored on the plane and returned to the room. Eggsy’s complexion had grown progressively paler. The strip of black collar around his throat seemed so dark against his snowy white flesh.

There was an alarming lack of life to his eyes, the pigment leeched, until they were no longer brilliant emeralds, but dull colored pieces of glass. Harry set the medical case down and whispered, “Eggsy?”

_Please God, no._

He was not a good man. Innocent blood stained his hands. He knew there were lives he took that didn’t deserve to be lost in his pursuit for justice and righteousness. He had no delusions about where he’d end up if there were truly a heaven and hell. But if there were a God, and if he truly were merciful, he wouldn’t take the only light from Harry’s life.

“I’m not losing you,” Harry yelled at Eggsy, an unhinged desperation clutching onto his heart as he opened the case. He wasn’t ready to let go. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready to continue on in this world without Eggsy.


	8. Metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this the end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self-betaed.

            It still hurt to move in certain ways, even after two weeks of being in a hospital bed. Percival wasn’t sure if it was from the bruising that still colored his side or if it was something deeper, a pain rooted into his marrow that was borne from the miasma of sorrow that circled him.

            He could still see Lancelot when he closed his eyes. The image of him slowly bleeding out was fixed on the back of Percival’s eyelids, a never ending movie that kept replaying the same scene.

            Percival remembered dragging his broken body across the gritty floor and over debris to Lancelot. He remembered trying to stop the blood—pressing his hands over Lancelot’s, fingers interlocking. For as long as he’d been in this work, he’d never realized how vividly red blood was. The world had turned gray around him, and all he could see was the intense hue of life, the pulsing radiance of Lancelot’s very _being_ , and how quickly it was fading to black.

            Percival remembered screaming until his vocal chords were hoarse. He’d been vaguely aware of Merlin in his ear, telling him an extraction team was on their way. But no matter how quickly the team came, no matter how fast everyone reacted, it hadn’t—and it never would have been—enough.

            “To Lancelot,” Arthur toasted, lifting his crystal tumbler of Dalmore.

The two words echoed around the rectangular table. Percival managed to choke them out, his glass raised. Sunlight warmed Percival’s back as it pooled in, beams of light reflecting off the amber liquid as he held the tumbler high. A tremor ran down his arms, the light glass suddenly a boulder he was trying to bear all his own.

He brought the hand cut crystal to his lips and swallowed the Dalmore, the whisky ashen and clinging to his throat on the way down.

His gaze fell on the empty seat across from him, and it was as if someone had hit a switch, and Percival suddenly realized that Lancelot wouldn’t be _there_. He wouldn’t be grinning across from him, making faces when he thought Chester wasn’t looking, or mimicking Merlin’s Scottish brogue—poorly, Percival might add—or pestering Percival when no one else was there. There would be no more jokes. No more flirtations. No more good mornings. No more requests for dinner.

They would never finish their drink.

Percival would never get a chance to date him, to see what could have been.

Lancelot had moved, in a matter of seconds, from that place in Percival’s life where he was here and then he wasn’t, from present to past tense, and Percival would never know what could have happened.

Percival drew in a sharp breath, and it was like someone had thrown a match down his throat. The whiskey caught fire and Percival would have been happy to burn away.

He set his glass down and the finality echoed in his ears. That was it. It was over. James Spencer was no longer Lancelot. He was filed as deceased and the position was opened. There would be no more discussion. No more anything. He would be mentioned in passing by some of the older agents. A story shared. A forgotten joke brought back up. He would become nothing more than a memory.

Percival needed to get out of there. He needed to put as much distance between himself and the table, between himself and aged whiskey, between himself and the future that would continue on without James.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, smoothly directing the conversation back towards business. “What are the whereabouts of Harry Hart?”

“Still unknown, sir. I’m afraid he’s gone deep underground,” Merlin said, standing near the fireplace, his ever present clipboard tucked against his chest. He glanced briefly at Percival, a flicker of remorse darkening his gray eyes. He cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders, and added, “But we did manage to bring back the computer from his lair and we’re working on unlocking it now.”

“Any progress yet?”

Merlin grimaced. “Nae. It looks like it was designed by Gary Unwin, and he has it heavily protected. But don’t worry; I’m working on this personally. If we can get into this computer, we may be able to locate Hart.”

 “Keep me posted. And what about the riots?”

“Since Hart’s disappearance, the military has been able to get the riots under control. We still have a few groups making a raucous, but nothing to be concerned about. The movement lost momentum when Prime Minister Parish was forced to step down. And without PROMETHEUS to unite everyone, the few groups that have banded together are breaking apart.”

“When you separate the head from the body, then there is nothing left to keep it going.” Arthur chuckled and shuffled some papers. “Now that we have a new spot open, we’ll begin trials. I expect you all to have your proposals by tomorrow, eight PM. That’s all.”

A proposal.

He knew it would come. The position would have been filled sooner, if it hadn’t been for Percival being in Med for so long.

Percival pushed away from the table and stood stiffly. He swallowed, looking from Chester to Lancelot’s seat, before settling his gaze on Merlin, who watched him with a concerned expression. Percival jerked his gaze away and walked out of the room with the few agents that were actually at HQ. Belvidere and Ector were on missions and participated via glasses, but the rest had actually been home to give the toast.

Percival numbly made his way down the hall and out of the tailor shop. When he looked up, he was suddenly standing on the bustling sidewalk of Savile Row.

Now what?

_Select a proposal._

That was all he could do. He had to carry on, as if his life hadn’t grinded to a halt. Percival slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a deft swipe of his thumb, he selected contacts and scrolled down to a name. He hit call and brought the phone to his ear, tipping his head back so the sun spilled over his face.

After three rings, the other line answered. “Hi Uncle Robyn.”

“Hello Roxy dear. Can you meet for lunch today? I have something I’d like to discuss with you,” Percival said, and while his words remained steady, a stray tear escaped the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek.

* * * *

            Harry was grateful that the mechanical whirr of the heart machine was gone as he entered the room. For the first week, it had been the only thing Harry had heard as he stood vigil beside Eggsy, praying to every deity he stopped believing in that his boy survived. It wasn’t the grace of God that saved Eggsy, though, but rather his tenacious spirit, cutting-edge medicine, and Harry’s exquisite connections.

            “I brought lunch,” Harry announced as he pushed past the door, a silver tray balanced on his hands.

            Eggsy smiled at him as he pushed himself up on the bed, blankets pooling in his lap.  He’d lost weight over the last two weeks, and his complexion was still recovering from its deathly pallor, but there was a vitality behind is green eyes, the genesis of a new star, burning pale, but vibrantly, in the dark.

            While Eggsy would have two scars on his shoulder and one on his abdomen, he would survive and make a full recovery.

            “Wot’s on the menu today?” Eggsy asked.

            Harry sat the tray down on his lap and answered, “Soup.”

            “Again?” Eggsy pulled a face. “How about some fish and chips instead? Or a sandwich?”

            “No solids yet. Doctors orders,” Harry said and took a seat in the chair next to Eggsy’s bed. “Once you’re cleared, I’ll find the greases fish and chips possible for you, but until then, eat your soup.”

            Eggsy pouted as he picked up his spoon and dipped it into the savory broth. He slurped down a spoonful, and despite his earlier protest, moaned pleasantly.

            “Good?” Harry smirked.

            “Shut it,” Eggsy huffed. He reached up, fingers skimming over the hollow of his throat, where usually his golden tag rested. His collar was gone, removed by the doctors, and each day it bothered Harry to see the lack of binding around Eggsy’s throat, but he’d fix that once Eggsy was well enough. Eggsy’s fingers stilled, and then he dropped his hand to his lap and he slurped another spoonful of soup.

            “Eggsy,” Harry reprimanded.

            Eggsy stuck a tongue out at him, but on his next bite, swallowed it without an obnoxious _ssslluuurrpp_. “Have y’ retrieved Daiz yet?” Eggsy asked, glancing hopefully at Harry.

            Harry crossed his legs and shook his head with a sigh. “I’m afraid not, sweetling. I’m afraid they got her.”

            Eggsy stilled, gaze fixed on the yellow broth. “They… got her?”

            “Don’t worry my love,” Harry reassured, reaching out to settle his hand over Eggsy’s free one. “I won’t let them get away with what they’ve done.”

            “Who are they ‘Arry?”

            “According to my resources, it’s a private espionage group who call themselves Kingsman.” Harry bit out the name acidly, each syllable burning his tongue.

            Eggsy picked his spoon up, a little bit of broth dribbling over the edge. “It’s okay, they won’t get into her. Daisy will only respond to her big bruv. I can get her back.” He whispered the last part with fierce determination, and repeated, “I can get her back,” as if saying it twice could secure his success.

            Harry squeezed Eggsy’s hand and let go. “You will pet. As soon as you’re well you can rebuild her. And when the time is right, we’ll show Kingsman just who they messed with.”

            “Wot about everything we worked towards?” Eggsy asked, setting his untouched spoon back in the bowl.

            Harry grimaced. “Humanity is weak,” Harry said. “They were given the gift of fire, and instead of growing and taking back what was theirs, they let the flame die.”

            “’Arry…”

            Harry stood and pressed a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead. “Don’t worry, my darling. It’ll be okay. Our work isn’t done yet. It’s only evolved, and I’m already working on the next step. If we can’t change the people, than we will change the world. Cleans it of the filth and start over.”

            Eggsy tipped his head up, mouth seeking, and Harry rewarded him with a tender kiss. There had been a time that he thought he’d never get to taste those lips again, a time when he thought he’d never see Eggsy’s smiling face or hear his voice. Kingsman had destroyed his life’s work and nearly taken away the most important thing to Harry. He wouldn’t let them get away with it.

            “I have to go, I have some work to do, but I’ll be back tonight,” Harry said.

            “Okay. Will Gazelle be by later? ‘Aven’t seen her in awhile.”

            “I’m afraid I have her on a mission, so it’ll be a little bit before you see her again. But don’t worry, when you’re allowed to get back to work, you’ll see her. We have a lot to do, so make sure you focus on getting better.”

            “Yes, ‘Arry.”

            Harry smiled approvingly and left the room. His phone rang as he shut the door behind him. He slipped it from his pocket, checked to see who it was, then answered and greeted, “Hello Richmond.”

            “H, my man! How’s our patient?” Richmond Valentine asked jovially, a slight lisp softening his ‘r’s’.

            “Much better. The doctor told me he should be able to begin his physical therapy soon,” Harry said. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

            “Good, very good. I’m glad to hear that, and don’t mention it. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be able to proceed with Project Gaea. The sooner your boy is better, the sooner we can begin.”

            “Have you located Professor Arnold?” Harry queried.

            “Gazelle is on it as we speak. I got to say, your girl is very good.”

            “She’s the best,” Harry agreed.

            “I can’t wait to see what your hacker can do when he’s well.”

            “Don’t worry, Richmond. Once Eggsy returns, nothing is going to stop us.”

            A smile crept across Harry’s mouth. While his plans for PROMETHEUS had failed, there was still hope. The fire hadn’t died, it had merely changed, taking on a grand metamorphosis; no longer would London burn, but the entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This'll be the last chapter for this story, but I actually already have a sequel being worked out in my head. I have a few other projects to work on, but I should start it sometime early next year.
> 
> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR READING AND YOUR SUPPORT!! I'M SO GLAD YOU ALL LIKED THIS.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr at [here!](http://www.sheepunderthemountain.tumblr.com)


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